


All-Nighter

by gallifreyburning, Ifailedtothinkofaname



Category: Gallifrey (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: F/M, multilingual fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 14:37:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18317264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gallifreyburning/pseuds/gallifreyburning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ifailedtothinkofaname/pseuds/Ifailedtothinkofaname
Summary: This story is part of an art/fic exchange betweengallifreyburningandalyona11 (aka ifailedtothinkofaname). The first chapter is alyona's original story in Russian, and the second chapter is gallifreyburning's English interpretation!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in seeing the art exchange, that can be found [here!](http://alyona11.tumblr.com/post/183876219716/gallifreyburning-and-myself-we-made-a-pretty)

[alyona11](alyona11.tumblr.com):

В последнее время они виделись все реже и реже. Осознание этого пришло к Нарвину внезапно. По правде говоря, он уже не помнил, когда в последний раз у него была возможность просто отдохнуть, не думая ни о работе, ни о приближающейся Войне Времени. Нарвин не был одним из тех людей, которые всецело думают об отдыхе на работе, но круглосуточные просмотры отчетов о миссиях, инструктаж агентов и сбор информации от потенциальных союзников редко оставляли время для сна, а уж о каком-то другом времяпрепровождении речи и не шло. Ситуация осложнялась тем, что Лила, получив позицию представителя Агентства в Военном Совете, была измотана едва ли не сильнее его. В те дни, когда Романа не отправляла ее в экспедиции за пределы Галлифрея, он имел роскошь видеть Лилу днем на официальных совещаниях, иногда ловил краем глаза тень ее рыжих волос, и в тех редких случаях, когда их расписание совпадало настолько, что они могли вместе пообедать. Последнее было для него настоящим событием. В такие моменты они могли вполголоса поговорить обо всем и ни о чем, пару раз как бы случайно коснуться друг друга и на пару микропериодов сделать вид, что мир не рушится на их глазах. Иногда к их беседам присоединялась Романа, и тогда Нарвин почти мог представить, что все вновь хорошо, что война не неизбежна и что его друзьям не угрожает никакой опасности. Лила всегда говорила, что лжец из него никакой, он и сам признавал это. И сейчас, смотря на усталые, измученные лица своих друзей и имея под рукой сотню другую свидетельств о том, что далеки все ближе, даже этот слабый самообман давался ему с натяжкой.

В этот вечер он опять был обречен на работу допоздна. Отпустив своего секретаря, он некоторое время листал отчеты в тишине, пока его внимание не привлек тихий стук в дверь. Нарвин замер. Наручные часы услужливо подсказали ему время: 2 часа ночи. Он был полностью уверен в том, что в башне CIA в данный момент не должно было быть никого. Часом ранее он лично заверил Роману в том, что он отлично справится с работой сам. Видимо, виной тому была сильная усталость, но Романа почти не противилась его предложению и, просмотрев еще пару отчетов для отвода совести, пошла домой. Лила же уже несколько дней пропадала в соседней звездной системе. Из ее последнего краткого отчета было не ясно, сколько еще времени потребуется для убеждения союзников в необходимости расстановки стратегических военных объектов на их планетах, поэтому слабая надежда на ее скорое возвращение была откинута сразу. Стук повторился более настойчиво. Нарвин осторожно коснулся панели тачпада, чтобы вывести на экран изображение с камер. Другая его рука в напряжении замерла над кнопкой тревоги. Однако напряжение быстро сменилось облегчением, когда камера вывела на экран знакомое лицо. Благодаря Рассилона, Омегу и Другого за то, что его никто не видит, он бросился в направлении двери и дрожащими пальцами нажал на кнопку. Дверь открылась и он, не давая ночной гостье опомниться, сжал ее в объятиях, немного приподняв над полом.

\- Лила! – на мгновение ему показалось, что от переполняющей сердце радости он разучился дышать. Лила ничего не ответила, только сильнее обняла его за шею и поцеловала в щеку.

\- Что ты здесь делаешь? – спросил он, отдаляясь и ставя ее на землю, - Я не ждал тебя так скоро.

\- Мне удалось добиться соглашения от лидера Монан Хост, я связалась с Военным Советом и они прислали своего человека, чтобы уладить все формальности. Мне больше не было смысла оставаться там, поэтому я решила вернуться немного раньше. Тем более, - улыбнулась она, проведя рукой по его щеке, - раз меня тут так ждут.

Нарвин немного наклонился и коснулся ее губ своими губами.

\- Так или иначе, меня интересует, что ТЫ здесь делаешь так поздно? - продолжила Лила, прервав поцелуй, -  Я надеялась застать тебя дома, но там оказалось пусто.

\- Ты и сама знаешь, - Нарвин устало вздохнул и махнул рукой в сторону своего стола, - работаю.

\- В такое время все нормальные люди спят, - хмыкнула Лила.

\- Видимо, твоя маленькая человеческая голова не может запомнить того, что я не человек, – ехидно заметил он и зашагал к столу, - я отлично обхожусь и без сна.

Однако, в опровержение своему заявлению, он не смог подавить протяжный зевок. Все же, долгие часы бодрствования давали о себе знать.

\- О, да я вижу. – Она скептически приподняла бровь, - Надо сказать, тебе повезло.

\- Повезло? – Он взял планшет и, нахмурившись, принялся что-то печатать.

\- Определенно, - опершись на стол, Лила резким движением выхватила планшет из его рук. – Кажется, твоя реакция слегка замедлена сегодня, Повелитель Времени - рассмеялась она, на его запоздалую попытку вернуть девайс. – Так вот, тебе очень повезло, потому что я очень устала.

\- Не понимаю, как эти две вещи связаны, это какая-то особая человеческая логика? – устало поддразнил он, подходя ближе.

\- Я устала и поэтому я из жалости готова спасти тебя от полуночной работы. – Лила положила планшет на полку и подошла к нему почти вплотную. Нарвин напрягся и сглотнул, но решил, продолжить упрямиться. Вернее, не упрямиться, а как он сам это называл – вести себя рационально. Если работа есть – она должна быть выполнена сразу, иначе она разрастется, подобно снежному кому и придавит незадачливого лентяя. Нарвину такая перспектива не доставляла особой радости, поэтому он бросил, намереваясь вернуться к столу:

\- Посмотрим, как это у тебя получится.

Тотчас он почувствовал мимолетное ощущение невесомости и понял, что земля услужливо решила уйти у него из-под ног, не дожидаясь пока сам упрямец решит принять горизонтальное положение. Приземление оказалось на удивление мягким, лицо уткнулось в подушку старого дивана, периодически служившего координатору кроватью на протяжении последних лет десяти. На спину что-то давило и не давало подняться. Логический анализ мгновенно сделал вывод, что этим «чем-то» была Лила.

\- Лила, какого Рассилона! – его вопль заглушила подушка, поэтому до ее ушей дошла скорее интонация, нежели целая фраза.

\- Я же сказала, что я тебя спасу, - Лила как ни в чем ни бывало легла на него сверху, игнорируя его недовольное бурчание.

\- Я не просил меня спасать! – ему наконец-то удалось повернуть голову и увидеть ее невероятно самодовольную улыбку.

\- Конечно нет, но ты бросил мне вызов и проиграл. Сдайся и наслаждайся своим поражением, Нарвин. Это будет самым практичным выходом из ситуации, а я знаю, что ты обожаешь все практичное.

Нарвин под ней недовольно заерзал, не переставая издавать недовольные звуки. Лила наклонила голову и поцеловала его в шею. Звуки прекратились. Нарвин замер и, казалось, совсем перестал дышать. Насладившись тишиной, но вовремя вспомнив, что обходная дыхательная система не может работать вечно, она чмокнула его в макушку. Звуки возобновились, но стали куда более довольными.

\- Сдавайся, - прошептала Лила ему на ухо, - будь хорошим мальчиком.

Он мог бы ответить ей, что он никакой не ребенок, но что-то подсказывало, что сейчас ему лучше подчиниться. Думать о работе было совершенно невозможно. Определенно не тогда, когда он чувствует ее ладони на своей спине, ее губы находят мочку его уха, а от ее горячего дыхания по коже пробегает морозец.

Лежа под ней и чувствуя как усталость, спокойствие и тепло берут свое, он подумал, как же все-таки хорошо, когда у тебя есть кто-то, кто готов тебя спасти.

 


	2. Chapter 2

[gallifreyburning](gallifreyburning.tumblr.com):

Narvin stares at the mug of tea on his desk, trying to remember when his assistant brought it in, and whether or not it’s gone cold. He could take a sip to verify the temperature, but the idea of lukewarm tea is too bleak to bear, on today of all days. He’s in the midst of processing a thick stack of reports from CIA agents assigned to outlying systems in the Kasterbouros constellation, all of them detailing Dalek incursions. The concept of war with the Daleks has gone from something he occasionally glimpsed from the corner of his eye to a tangible, terrifying reality standing in front of him, staring him in the face. It’s probably pointing an accusatory finger, too, since Narvin’s misguided rescue attempt was the inciting incident in this whole sordid situation.

Gallifrey stands on the cusp of entering the fray. Narvin’s pragmatic nature won’t let him ignore the fact, but some days he wishes he was the sort of Time Lord who could hide his head under a pillow and deny reality. It’s been weeks since he slept well, or thought of anything besides Daleks. He’s hardly spent time with anyone whose company he truly enjoys – Leela or Romana, in particular – without the entire conversation being consumed by the topic of Daleks, as their gunstalks creep into systems across the galaxy and into the day-to-day reality of his life.

The idea of vacation is a foreign one, as is the concept of a weekend, or the possibility of taking an early afternoon. But the CIA’s round-the-clock fixation on this inescapable war has taken its toll, and for the first time in his career, Narvin is sick to death of instructing agents and gathering intelligence from allies.

His emotional state is only complicated by Leela’s assignment as War Council liaison. With her human stamina – impressive though it might be for her species, still less robust than a Time Lord’s – she’s even more exhausted than him, most days. When she isn’t on an off-planet mission for Romana, he occasionally has the luxury of seeing the flash of her auburn hair in the corridors of the Capitol, and even more precious and rare, he takes lunch with her. These moments are a boon to his spirits – they sit together and speak in low tones of everything and nothing, all at the same time. They can bump feet under the table and brush hands quite by accident, and for a few microspans at least, he can almost forget that the universe is crumbling around him piece by piece. Even more rarely, Romana joins their social encounters, and Narvin remembers life is as it was, before the Axis and his miscalculation with the Doctor and the Daleks. He can almost pretend that war isn’t inevitable, in these moments.

Almost, but not quite.

Leela always accused him of being a bad liar. She’s probably right. Looking at the exhausted faces of his friends, dealing daily with hundreds of pieces of proof that war with the Daleks is at their doorstep, his already scant ability to deceive himself has worn even thinner, almost too thin to properly appreciate at all.

This particular evening, sitting alone in the middle of the night in his office and staring down the disappointing prospect of a cold cup of tea, Narvin resigns himself to another sleepless night. He dismisses his assistant and shifts through reports for a while in silence, until a quiet knock on the door interrupts his concentration.

He freezes, wondering if he’s missed a meeting. He blinks blearily at the chronometer: it’s two o’clock in the morning. As bad as things have gotten, they haven’t gotten to the point of requiring midnight meetings. The CIA runs on a skeleton crew at this time of night, and none of the agents on duty should have any cause to knock at his door, unless it’s a Daleks-in-the-Panopticon emergency.

Only a few hours earlier, he’d personally assured Romana that he could handle the Agency’s business by himself for the evening, because one look at her shadow-rimmed eyes had convinced him she was in more need of sleep than he was. In her stubbornness, she’d insisted on reviewing a few reports before finally going home. Leela has been on assignment the last few weeks in a nearby star system, to convince their allies to allow the installation of Gallifreyan military outposts on their various outlying planetoids. The battle is uphill, and Romana said she doesn’t expect Leela to return home anytime soon. This must be a junior agent at his door, then, one of the skeleton crew come to bring dire news.

The knock comes again, more insistent this time. Even though he’s confident in the CIA’s security protocols and the safety of this building, his hand hovers over the alarm button as he keys the touchpad to activate the door camera.

The tension drains from his body like water through a sieve, because Leela’s image appears onscreen. She stands in front of his closed door and nibbles her cuticles, as if she’s worried she won’t find him here.

Thanking Rassilon, Omega and the Other that no one can see his foolish enthusiasm, he nearly knocks his desk chair over in his rush to get to her. With trembling fingers, he presses the button to unlock the door. The building is mostly empty and this top floor, in particular, is certainly deserted, so he plunges right into the corridor and sweeps her into his arms, lifting her feet off the floor.

“Leela!” he manages, a remarkable feat given the fact that he’s quite forgotten how to breathe. She’s soft and warm, and she smells like herbal shampoo and the time vortex and a little bit like human sweat. Her only reply is to tighten her grip, fingers curling against his ribs as she shifts her face just enough to press her lips to his cheek. He imagines he can feel her heart thumping against the right side of his chest, pounding in syncopated rhythm with both of his. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you so soon.”

He sets her onto her feet and steps back, pulling her into the office. As the door squeaks shut behind her, she replies, “I got an agreement from the leader of the Monan Host, and contacted the War Council. They have sent their man to settle all the formalities. My work was done, and I did not want to stay to listen to them make boring speeches at each other, so I decided to return early.” She grins, tongue poking out between her teeth, and strokes his bearded jaw. “Especially since I have important things waiting for me here on Gallifrey.”

His face warm and pink, Narvin leans down to kiss her.

She isn’t impressed by his suave, romantic gesture. In fact, beneath her excitement he senses a thin layer of annoyance. “What are you doing in your office at this hour? When I arrived home, I went to your quarters and found them empty. Because you are working so late, I had to come all the way to the CIA Tower to greet you, instead.”

He steps out of her embrace, sighing and waving a hand at his desk. “There’s always more work.”

“Normal people do a thing called ‘sleeping,’ Narvin. It is a very popular past-time, some even try it as often as once a day.”

“You’ve called me many insults during the years we’ve known each other, but this is the first time you’ve ever accused me of being _normal_ ,” he retorts. His jaw aches with the need to yawn, so he turns away to hide it, stepping around his desk. “Anyway, I’m not tired.”

“Mmmhmm, I see. You are wide awake,” she replies, and he can practically hear her crossed arms and skeptical eyebrows. “In fact, you are wide awake and very lucky.”

“Lucky?” In an effort to match her mood, to distract himself from the urge to pin her up against the wall and show her how much he’s missed her, he picks up a tablet and begins to type. A second urge to yawn seizes him, and he valiantly ignores that, too.

“Definitely.” Without warning, stealthy as a jungle cat, Leela creeps up behind him and snatches the tablet from his hands. “See, my tired Time Lord? Look at how slowly you move.” She dances a step back as he tries to take the tablet again. “In fact, you are lucky, because while you might claim to be wide awake, I am perfectly willing to admit that I am tired.”

“I don’t understand how my luck has anything to do with you being tired. Is this some kind of nonsense human logic?” He decides that if Leela is annoyed, he has every right to be stern, even if the sight of her still has him feeling as effervescent as a fountain in Pandak Square. He carefully composes his facial features, putting on his best steely expression. Leela doesn’t seem the least bit worried about the fact that he’s following her across the room to retrieve his tablet. In fact, her annoyance has shifted into distinct self-satisfaction.  

She says, “I am tired, and therefore I have decided to save you from working through the night. Purely out of pity, of course.” Without looking, Leela drops the tablet on a nearby chair and stops retreating. Narvin continues to advance, because he can’t just leave the tablet on that chair – it’s the wrong place entirely, tablets go into the top left drawer of his desk. What if someone sits on it? Anyway, he isn’t being stubborn, really, he’s simply being rational. If there’s work to be done, he might as well do it immediately, or it will snowball right over him, and crush him flat.

He stops in front of her and leans past, reaching for the chair and the tablet. “Leela, what on Gallifrey has gotten into your head, that makes you think you can stop me from finishing these reports? This is important CIA war business!”

Before he finishes that last word, gravity ceases to exist. At least, that’s what it feels like – the ground isn’t under his feet anymore, and he’s floating (he’s falling) as the room spins. It happens so fast, he doesn’t have time to react or defend himself, he simply folds like a rag doll under the force of Leela’s expert grappling move, and a heartsbeat later he’s horizontal.

Fortunately it’s a soft landing, because she’s maneuvered him onto the nearby sofa, a piece of furniture that has occasionally served as his bed over the last decade or so, on long nights running point for various CIA missions while his agents were in the field. He’s on his stomach with one cheek smashed into a pillow. Weight pins his thighs and rests on each of his shoulder blades. Even though he’s dizzy from the sudden location change, the logical part of his brain is still aware enough to conclude that this “something” must be Leela.

“For Rassilon’s sake!” he sputters, disgruntled rumbling mangled by the pillow smashing his lips.

Somehow she manages to understand him anyway. As if they’re still standing face-to-face like normal, rational beings, she replies, “I told you that I would save you.”

“How is throwing me around the room _saving me_? And who said I needed saving anyway? I was fine!” He cranes his neck so he can see her smug grin, which is maddening and arousing all at the same time.

“You would never _ask_ to be saved, Narvin. Your fat Time Lord head is far too proud to admit you need help. But you challenged me and lost, and your only choice now is to relax and enjoy your defeat. It is the only practical way to escape this situation, and if you are only one thing, you are practical. Now be still.”

Narvin makes a few inarticulate grumbling noises, wiggling beneath her. She leans down, her long hair tickling his face, and touches her lips to the back of his neck. Warmth radiates from this point of contact like lava dropped into a pond, rippling through his body and leaving his whole being soft and tingly in its wake. He stops wiggling, his irritated huffs of breath slowing into near stillness as his respiratory bypass kicks in automatically.

Long moments of silence blanket the room, with Leela’s heat and weight anchoring him down. His worry over field reports and Daleks recedes, all of his attention focused on the familiar physical contours of the woman on his back, and the well-worn cushions on his couch. Eventually she shifts, planting a second kiss on his temple. His lungs kick back into gear, pulling in air once more, and he makes a quiet humming sound as his eyes flutter closed.

“See how enjoyable it is to be a good boy, and surrender?”

“Mmm,” he replies noncommittally. He hasn’t been a boy in several hundred years, but this doesn’t seem the moment to argue the point. Or to argue over the fact that he still has four more reports to finish before daybreak, because he can’t bring himself to think about work when he’s busy being held hostage by an alien in his own office. Leela’s palms press against his shoulderblades, and her lips brush the shell of his ear, drawing goosebumps at the back of his neck.

She wiggles off of his hips, coming down to wedge herself between him and the back of the couch. He shifts onto his side to make room, so they lie nose-to-nose on the narrow cushion. Her arm still drapes across his torso, holding him firmly in place, preventing any thought of escape.

Lying here, exhausted and weighed down by a hardheaded human instead of thoughts of the Time War, Narvin decides that being saved isn’t so terrible after all. Not that he’d ever admit it to Leela, of course. He makes a different sort of admission instead, giving her four careful and attentive kisses, one for each of the mission reports he’s definitely not getting to tonight.


End file.
